


Between a Rock and a Hard Place

by Spiralleds



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 01, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-06-04
Updated: 2007-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-08 18:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiralleds/pseuds/Spiralleds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He held himself back from pointing out she was the one who had insisted they take this case.  Instead, he studied the heavy metal door; it shouldn't have locked behind them, but it did.  There had to be a way to get back out.  He tried to fascinate himself with the old fashioned lock bar, but wasn't enough to keep him from hearing the unzipping of her jeans or wondering if the (assumed) lacy bra and panty set were next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [married_n_mich](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=married_n_mich).



"Turn around so I can strip."

"Wh-what?" Angel stuttered, staring at Cordelia.

"You heard me, mister, turn around. We're locked in, the only person who _may_ eventually realize we're down here is Wes – if he finds the note you left on his paper-strewn desk, and we have no idea what the goo does, but I doubt it's a beauty cream, even if it does smell sorta cinnamony, so no way I'm keeping these clothes on. Not that I need one, but if I'd wanted an acid peel I would have gone to Jean-Phillipe."

Her hands were already on the hem of her shirt, ready to pull it over her head, so Angel spun around, his shoulders scraping the walls of the narrow room. He shrugged out of his goo covered coat, tossing it to the corner - if what was a glorified passageway really could have a corner.

"I loved these boots and now they're ruined!"

He heard the offending objects thump against the wall for emphasis, thankful she didn't toss them at his head. While his coat had taken the brunt of the goo that spurted his way when they'd smashed the nest of eggs, Cordelia's clothes were beyond recovery. Clothes that she'd insisted, while they were putting space between themselves and the Er'osestian Klatch, were designer. Angel was certain were knock-offs, but this was one of those times when stoic silence was a better choice than correcting her.

"That's it! From now on we're only taking cases involving ooze-free demons."

He held himself back from pointing out she was the one who had insisted they take this case. Instead, he studied the heavy metal door; it shouldn't have locked behind them, but it did. There had to be a way to get back out. He tried to fascinate himself with the old fashioned lock bar, but wasn't enough to keep him from hearing the unzipping of her jeans or wondering if the (assumed) lacy bra and panty set were next.

He hoped the goo hadn't gotten that layer. Well, at least nobler part of his brain hoped it hadn't gotten that layer - and that her underwear was actually of the white cotton variety. Although with the body Cordelia had, even white cotton would look far too sexy and what was wrong with him that he was thinking about her like that?

"Now take your shirt off."

"Wh-what?" he stuttered again, turning toward her.

She gave the back of his head a dope slap. "I didn't say turn around, I said take your shirt off!"


	2. Chapter 2

Cordelia rolled her eyes. Sometimes Angel was just too easy to rattle. But focusing on keeping him off balance kept her from worrying about whether she was going to make the audition this afternoon, and worrying about missing her audition kept her from worrying about just how long beyond the audition they could be locked in here.

The distraction she didn't expect was watching Angel's back as he unbutton his shirt. The roll of his shoulders as he undid each button made her wish that she'd let him turn around. She wanted to watch as each button came loose. No, she wanted to be the one undoing those buttons, the one whose hands pulled his shirt sleeves out of his pants, the one who…

She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step back as Angel shrugged out of his shirt, exposing that broad, muscular back that made his spine seem indented. She wanted to run her fingers, no, she wanted to run her tongue along that channel.

"Ah, Cordy?"

His voice made her jump, and she was thankful to see that his back was still toward her. What was wrong with her? "Yeah?" she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Would you like my shirt, now that I've got it off?"

He stretched his arm back as far as it would go, holding the collar between his thumb and forefinger. She stared at his hand and the shirt in it. She could pull the shirt out of his hand without touching him. She could, but she didn't. She let one hand grasp the shirt while the other brushed over the hand holding the shirt.   
Fast as only a vampire can be fast, he retrieved his hand, his voice making an odd strangling sound.

"Are you sure that other door is locked?" he asked. "Maybe I should give it a try."

"I couldn't get it to budge, but be my guest," Cordy said, she slipped his shirt on and began buttoning it. Glancing up, she realized he was taking her up on her invitation. "Hello! Still getting dressed here!"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them; and she couldn't believe that she wished them back. She thought about turning around to finish buttoning up, but why? Cordy wondered just how much of an eyeful he'd gotten. Her legs, but it wasn't like he hadn't seen those when she had a short skirt on. Possibly more of cleavage than her average vee-neck shirt provided. If he saw the cleavage, then he definitely saw the red bra and panties, which, thankfully, coordinated nicely with his shirt. But considering he always had these black shirts, and black goes with nearly everything, maybe it wasn't so amazing. The surprising thing was the scent of cinnamon that clung to his shirt. She'd never given a lot of thought to what he smelled like, but this was not it. It wasn't a bad smell, not at all, just surprising.

She had all but the top couple buttons in place when she finally gave him permission to turn around. How could she have not thought through the fact that if she'd taken his shirt he'd be bare chested? Chiselly goodness, indeed. Too bad Angel wasn't around to be Da Vinci's blueprint for _David_. He could shepherd her wherever he wanted. Dragging her eyes away, Cordy busied herself with rolling up the sleeves that hung beyond her fingertips as Angel closed the space between them.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Angel and Cordelia, R or NC-17, getting stuck in a tight space and one thing leading to another.


End file.
